From Open Hell to Closed Hell
by Moniquita2
Summary: Prinle Shepard has lived all her life in the streets, and having become highly adapted to gang life, she knows it is where she can be safer until she turns eighteen. That is, until an ill-timed gang robbery sweeps her life from under her feet. This biotic earthborn Shepard ends up on brain camp after getting caught. Shenko, cuz' Kaidan. Rated M for language and graphic situations.
1. Chapter 1

**CHAPTER #1**

Earth was a beautiful place.

You had so much variety: The green, wet, chaotic landscapes, the light brown, dry, hot deserts, the blue, vast, great oceans, the white, silent, unmoving freezing poles and mountain tops. The sickeningly rich mansions and dirt poor streets. Of course, not everyone appreciated all types of variety. She didn't. But a lot more did. Except, they wanted to look like they didn't, because if they didn't they couldn't be accused of causing it. So, they acted like they opposed it, in fact, they took actions to show that. When really, if they did not care, she would truly hate them less if they just let them be. Instead of sending their police to make an operation the day they happen to do theirs to keep up appearances for their politics, and thus, their money.

It had been an easy target, the old abandoned storage house was confirmed to have valuable things, we'd only been armed in case another gang got any ideas, but not for a police force. It was a bit into the country, so there was no hiding, and no running without giving ample opportunity to be shot in the back. She really wanted to punch the guy who had forbidden cars, but the logic had been sound at the time, traceability and suspicion. She, in fact, had supported their coming on foot. And the police had chosen, today of all days, to patrol the outskirts. They saw us and the inevitable happened. Now, they were shooting, would probably later say that we'd attacked first when really we wanted to save our ammunitions for the very possible, very probable gang war brewing under the surface. We had tried to sneak past them without violence, and she would be the first to admit, it was a really stupid plan, but for gods' sakes, the police were meant to be the good guys, use lethal force only if necessary, so the risk was supposed to be minimal- and she really should stop thinking about how outraging the situation was and begin planning a way to get out of it. Though a bit of ire, she considered, was justified when the only thing keeping you from sure death was a thin metal wall and bullets where buzzing over your head, bullets that came from abusing motherfucking surely-corrupt officers that didn't have the guts to confront them on even ground, instead deciding to shoot from their cars, making them hover over the open roofs of the storage.

"Jesus Christ- fuck!" Kein cursed loudly, almost shrieking. The thin guy made himself a ball while checking his ammunition. The man was the closest thing she could ever have to a friend in this den of wolves, she would even say that she trusted him. She would dub him mentor if she followed his teachings in the most minimal way; which she didn't. He looked rather weak, like the starved out idiot that was always left out. But he was smart. His appearance played against him when he wanted something to happen, so he took any ally he could get. And she was his strongest link. He betraying her was just not convenient. Right now, if she knew him at all, he was acting like a coward because he knew it was his best bet. Police don't like the dauntless; consider them unpredictable sons of bitches. So, seeming the contrary was hiding. Kein was incredible at hiding. And she would do the same, but neither her reputation, nor her abilities nor her pride would let her. All she could afford do was… heroics.

The spot she was on had greater cover than Kein's, she had more and bigger crates, but not much angle for fire, not much possibilities. The Boss, Johan, was shouting orders, some general, some specific. She didn't bother to listen, she had too much influence for him to harm her in any way, and she noted that Kein did not change his strategy either. It made sense, she supposed, in the off chance someone else noticed his disobedience, he could disappear later. Using the multiple distractive movements of the gang caused by Johan's authority, she jumped out of her hiding place, running directly towards Kein. The 20 meters between them were obstructed by various small crates, so she used it to her advantage. She rolled, slid, and crouched respectively to keep herself from the line of fire as much as possible, before dashing through an empty space of around 6 meters, she had calculated before this mess began, that she supposed was for the old-days' truck that was on the back of the storage house. She saw them before they reached her, the shots splashing on the wet, muddy ground as they made their way to intercept her. Automatically, she brought up _her barrier_.

There was something different about her barrier from other barriers. She could never do the typical barrier most biotics did, and she supposed it was because she had no amp whatsoever. But her information was pretty lacking. Movies did not help, they painted biotics as dangerous madmen, and she knew that wasn't the case because she was a biotic herself. She would not feed on the misinformation they offered. All she knew was that she could never stop the bullets, only deflect them. And she could never control where.

And her lack of control scared her, every time she brought the barrier up, she had a feeling it would flicker and fail in a minimal way that would be just enough for her end.

She never expected for one of the deflected bullets to shoot through one of the drivers' skulls, making the car lose control, flying out of her line of sight behind the storage walls to crash outside.

There was a startled pause, in which everyone took a moment to process what had happened.

And then, she had the policemen's full attention.

She threw herself down between two crates before the hail of bullets rained down on her. There was a limit to what a barrier could protect her against. She awkwardly tried to crawl through the mud, absently wondering if she would need another set of clothes before she came face to face with an equally muddy Kein. "I was just trying to reach you." She intoned over the fire, immediately getting into the familiar banter that she knew would get things moving. "I know, you think I would ruin my pristine presence just for anyone?" He retorted cheekily, smiling just enough to reveal one of his missing teeth. "I bet you need advice, don't you, Princess?" She nodded, not minding the alias. Kein was good back-up. If nothing occurred to her, she knew for a fact something must have to him.

"Look behind me sweet." He said. And she did. Three crates back, there was one busted open on the side, spilling oval metal rocks. "Are those…?" She wondered. "…Twentieth-one century grenades." He confirmed. "And every-one of those identical crates is filled with them."

Sometimes, she loved this guy.

They were small crates, heavy but still easy enough to manage. First, she biotically threw a bunch of the spilled grenades upwards, concentrating to keep them far from each other, and crushed them mid-air. That was enough distraction to stop the fire momentarily, but momentarily was enough. She got up, and rapidly, with her biotics, took one crate for each shuttle, and threw them all against the official idiots with little barriers to evade premature destruction. The explosions came soon after. Thinking there was no more danger, she leaned forward from exhaustion, her head suddenly throbbed, as each shuttle fell and got out of control, she only felt the strain from overuse, the blood trickling down her nose.

"Princess, shit!" She heard, but she didn't register it until she was pushed down to the mud again, an unexpected weight over her, and it was then, with her eyes facing the sky, did she realize enough to mirror the thought. "Shit!"

 **Author's note: Kinda-somewhat revised. I will not have a word minimum for this story and each chapter. I will just let it go. That way, it will hopefully flow better than "Well I Won't Stand Here Doing Nothing."**


	2. Chapter 2

**CHAPTER #2**

When she reopened her eyes, the world seemed to be the smell of smoke, heat, sweat and pain. Oh, and the whole lot of metal at her face. She was panting, like she had run a marathon, and she realized she was out of air. And while she was sure breathing shallowly would not get her much oxygen, she was not sure if the amount of smoke she kept gulping was much better either. She had to get out of- where was she? Just now, she really did take in her narrow surroundings. Crates at both of her sides had stopped her from being crushed, much as they had prevented her being filled with bullet holes, but they could barely be called crates anymore. Their distorted metal dug into her arms, she realized, had already penetrated them at some spots. And she couldn't move her leg, inmobilized by what seemed to be a chair. But there was something else, a weird feeling, a numb one. She looked down on herself, to find a big tube that had stabbed through the side of her waist vertically. Was that, was that really herself?

…Well… shit.

There were worst ways it could have gone, she decided, she could be hurting like crazy and unable to think.

Of course, being numb meant it was serious. And she was pretty confused…and there were no obvious options.

She sagged against the ground, not like she was going anywhere anytime soon, and tried to think. Kein. Kein had gotten her into cover, thrown himself over her so- where was he? He couldn't be far, she decided, and if he was, it was better if someone listened. "Keeeeiiinnn!" She called out, loudly, but got no answer. Three seconds later, she opened her mouth again, closed it, looked down on herself, and shut her eyes tightly. _Freaking pathetic_ , she thought, so that was enough calling out for help. If he was not here, he either abandoned her, or he was looking for help. Either way, she wasn't staying. Drawing on the last of her strength, she tried to push everything from her. It worked- somewhat. She had a little more breathing space, her arms were kinda freed, but all in all, she was still stuck and stabbed. And she- she wasn't sure if- if- "Fuck! Goddamnit, concentrate!" She screamed at herself, panting, hyperventilating, almost, if she wasn't bleeding, it would be hyperventilating. She took one last gulp of terrorized air, and stopped, finding the rhythm of a babe in sleep.

It wasn't a good idea, she knew it wasn't a good idea, but she couldn't stay. She needed to get to a hospital, they wouldn't question her badly enough because she had bullet wounds, and her burns, she supposed, were minimal. She grabbed the godforsaken chunk of metal, and with a guttural cry, pushed it out of herself, letting it instead press against the ground beside her. Why couldn't it have been there in the first place? Would have made everything easier. With detached horror, she watched as blood began sputtering out of the wound like a newly cleared pipe, and crawled backwards with mostly her arms, her legs feeling way too weak to do much helping.

She came out into the sunlight, and closed her eyes at the brightness, and as she opened them again moments later to take in her surroundings, she noted with what could be defined as cold resignation that suddenly everything seemed blurry, squares of color. Her back hit the mud again, took her a few seconds to realize her arms had given out from underneath her. She couldn't tell if she cared or not anymore. She told them to move, she told everything on herself to move, but the only answer she got was a light, frustratingly, desperately, small jerk of her right hand. She couldn't smell the smoke, or the humidity anymore. All she could see was black, and she blinked, she blinked, made sure her eyes were wide open but all she could see was black.

Later, she would be able to dimly recall the sound of engines, splashes and distant, urgent voices.


	3. Chapter 3

**CHAPTER #3**

The next time she opened her eyes, she saw light again. It was white, harsh and direct, but even then, it seemed more welcoming than the sunlight she had received out of the shuttle and, against instinct, her eyes didn't close, not a fraction, in order to admire it. The same happened with the strong, revolting aroma of antiseptic and alcohol; she inhaled deeply and felt the movement of her lungs in amazement. She hadn't noticed she had been missing it. She hadn't noticed she had been missing a lot of things, she mused, enjoying the ability to wiggle her toes defiantly and caress the cool sheet that hugged her gently.

In a truly ironic manner, it was hearing the last thing she focused on.

"...Hey. Guys, look, the _freak_ is waking up."

And it wanted her to come back to reality.

In what could be described as anything _but_ cold resignation, her eyes shot in the direction of the annoying little prick piercing her heaven. They found more biotic-phobics than they cared to find, a straight row of chairs against the wall in front of her, and there, sitting, were men in uniform. The one in the right corner, in his early-thirties, had this beardy look to him even when having no beard and short hair- she really wasn't sure how that worked –and was sleeping. His arms were crossed, and his head was slightly against the wall, but falling, burying itself into the nest he created with himself. The man to the right was watching her intently, it was a tad unnerving, she had to admit. No much hate, no much fear, no much awe, no much of anything, but as was leaning forward with his elbows on his legs, it was clear he was not relaxing. This man, she realized, wanted to be a career man. He looked young, but not too young, like twenty-one, twenty-two, maybe not even twenty. He was trying to be the perfect, dutiful, disciplined officer that did no let his immature feelings or insecurities get in the way. A robot. She had no doubt he was being encouraged, his superiors loved him, his parents were proud, his naïve fellow-soldiers looked up to him, and the ones that didn't, let him be. Most would say he was a wise young guy, but caring too much and too little, she thought, were two sides of the same problem. She left the unwavering gaze of the dark haired and black eyed handsome idiot, to look at the annoyance that had pierced her little relieved bubble, a blond stuck-up guy who she was trying to decide if he was trying to look hateful, smug, superior, or trying to decide which of those he wanted to look like. Yeah, the disgust was mutual. She moved on, to find the fourth soldier, a guy that looked at her with the same amount of repulsion, but was smart enough to look sure of himself while doing so. "Don't bother yourself," he began, "she doesn't deserve our attention, as long as she gets the message not to try anything." The man beside him nodded at him.

"I disagree." Immediately, Goody-two-shoes of Serious Gaze interjected in the exchange. "Our assignment was to watch over her, make sure that she doesn't do anything to harm others _or herself_." She found the last specification kind of weird, the Alliance didn't care for the well-being of biotics as much as they pretended to but- oh, pretend, right. "We don't know what she thinks about having gotten caught."

Finally tired of how they talked as if she wasn't aware, she cut in. "I can tell you what I think- if you tell me what you will do with me. Because, you know, if I don't know, how can even begin to form an opinion?"

Perfect-Foot-Soldier stood up, and slowly walked to her bedside. Once there, he took a breath in which she supposed he was collecting his thoughts, and replied. "The Alliance will put you through a program of Biotic Acclamation and Temperance Training in which they teach you to control your abilities." That was such a politically respectful answer, she mockingly congratulated in her mind.

Then she really thought about it. Training. It made the most sense; she had a hard time doubting. She wasn't shackled, if it weren't for these soldiers, she would pass as any other injured free citizen. And they certainly intended to keep her alive; putting her in a hospital would defeat the point otherwise. And inwardly, she smiled, she cheered, she celebrated, she saw what she initially thought as condemnation as a blessing. Sometimes, hearing you were useful to someone was better than hearing they cared about you. Not because someone cares they will go out of their way to protect you, especially if it puts them at risk, but if there were benefits to be ripped, they sure would. Yes, so she would probably be forced into some stupid military institution and would later on have to escape if she didn't like how they wanted to use her. But it wasn't bad, definitely better than an orphanage and she would be free of the hell and dangers gang life often represented, wouldn't worry about the hunger, either.

Little did she know, that she would pass from an open hell, to a closed Hell.

 **Author's Note: Ok, guys, you are probably getting frustrated, I'll see how to push the story forward faster.**


	4. Chapter 4

**CHAPTER #4**

Days passed pretty fast, probably because she was only conscious for about 40% of them. Blood replenishment required a lot of rest, they said with their sweet forced smiles. But she knew better. The nurses were as worried as the soldiers, and she wouldn't be surprised if they kept her asleep out of fear. Wouldn't want the biotic to tear up the place. Her suspicions were pretty much confirmed when a week and a half or so later, she was deemed healthy and capable for space travel, with only a warning to not move or bend around much. Suddenly, she was able to stay awake and standing pretty much all day with only slight laziness. Such an abrupt and total recovery, was it not? Of course, the moment her feet grazed the ground, her bodyguards, as she'd taken a habit of calling them, were always within a two meters radius. Rather than looking like what she really was, she made the best out of the new clothes she was given and walked around with a pose that suggested she was a rich kid with paranoid parents.

She liked to joke about it, infuriate them. They were her protectors as much as they were her captors, so they were forced to put up with her. Did they make a point to insult her often, if somewhat discreetly? Yep. Nice-Guy-With-What-She-Supposed-Was-An-Impeccable-Record, who she'd discovered was called Tom Alenko, kept quiet though. And the old guy, Varric Haymitch, he didn't just kept up with her; he would banter with her with sarcastic undertones. Who would have expected that? The guy who probably should have the most reservations was treating her like any kid, like she wasn't to her eyes some pitiable criminal, not to mention monster. Never underestimate the connection between age and wisdom, she guessed. (She really had to hold back from asking if he was old enough to have been in the contact war, he looked that old and she knew nothing regarding the alliance age regulations.)

Maybe it was just who she was, able to take anything in stride, but she wasn't surprised with her first off planet travel. The artificial gravity was so well calibrated, she barely felt the moment when they left orbit. The view was nice, breathtaking, magnanimous, gigantic, yes, that is why she stood in wonder for about five seconds. Then, it was over. No more admiration. She kept looking because it was certainly prettier than the inside of the ship and the old man had fallen asleep again. The only thing in her mind was planning: Once the training was done, and they sent her do whatever, how exactly would she escape? Use her acquired abilities? If they put a tracker on her, how would she avoid it? Was she so opposed to military life, really? She bit her lip at that. Fighting, what she knew how to do, while helping some people in the way? Sure, she was happy with that, but military did more than helping people, they also did what politics wanted it to do and that turned her stomach. Chain of command? No thank you. Then again, she would be the first to admit in the army she had a chance to do _some_ good and have a stable life, income, official documents that would grant her a certain level of freedom. Gang life would always mean gang life and she knew it. Why was she doing so much fuss anyway, what was the official version? She turned to Tom who was sitting with his back straight and looking forward into his omni-tool to what looked like paragraphs and paragraphs of utter- she spied an Alliance Logo- right, bullshit. "What do I have to do to receive this training? What's the catch?" She asked him directly. No one else was going to answer her, they either hated her or were unconscious.

He took a moment to realize she was talking to him, after a moment he raised his gaze towards her, however, and found her looking at him directly. He shut down his tool, and debated whether or not to answer. Deciding the information petitioned was not classified, he couldn't see why not. "For you to wear an amp, and stop with your illicit activities, I believe. Other than that, you will not require to hold ties with the Alliance." He said.

 _That_ was more than she hoped for, then again, what was written in the records was hardly the absolute truth, it never was with anything government related, she was sure.

"What?!" Asked the main jerk, who she hadn't bothered to recall a name for. "You serious? No surveillance, no reporting every once in a while, nothing?"

Tom shook his head towards his fellow guard.

"Bullshit." The first jerk stated, outrage seeping from his pores, second jerk leaned forward then, asked "How would you know this shit anyway?"

Prinle frowned at that. Was it hard information to get? Her suspicion that there was more than met the eye increased tenfold.

"I have a cousin on Jump Zero, he is part of the program." Answered Tom dutifully, stoically.

"Must be a real pain keeping those freaks in line. Tell him we are grateful man." Commented Jerk #2.

Tom kept quiet then, looked down, breaking the coolness Prinle had gotten used to from him, before responding, in a lower but steady voice. "He is training in the program." The expression on his face, Prinle recognized, as shame, instantly marking him off as Jerk #3.

"You got a freak cousin!" Jerk #1's outburst got the old man awake. His snoring suddenly stopped and he was looking around with low eye lids before registering what he heard, his eyes flitting between Prinle and Tom. Main Jerk gave him an accusing and disgusted glare that she as sure she mirrored, before settling back into his chair, and opening up a tool game, intent on ignoring the guy. Jerk #2 didn't look like he had any idea what to do; he opened his mouth and then closed it, he moved like a tree on an indecisive hurricane before he finally leaned back again next to the main jerk like a dog-loyal follower, opening his tool as well. Prinle, only slightly annoyed she was acting like the two jerks, also giving jerk three the silent treatment as she turned her back on him to look out into the stars again.

If there was something she was feeling sorry for, it was for the third jerk's poor cousin. She was valued for her biotics in the gang, even if they did call her a freak. But in itself, she didn't care for the gang. Even though Kein left her, she still respected him and his judgment, would still think of him as a friend. She didn't know how she would have reacted if one day Kein started hating or disapproving of her for a simple fact she couldn't change. Have your family around you yet not getting their support for being _anything_ just seemed wrong.

She would probably trust her family's judgment if she remembered them too, or had lived with them. She would probably not be as autonomous and independent as she was now. She would, maybe, probably, believe them if they told her she was a monster.

She really felt sorry for the guy.

 **Author's Note: Yes, yes I just named the old guy Varric Haymitch. Oh, wait, what, makes you uncomfortable? Well, TOO BAD! Talking seriously though, if that's really the case, do not worry. You will not have to put up with this name for long.**


	5. Chapter 5

**CHAPTER #5**

Her reaction to space travel was very different from her reaction to space stations.

Maybe it was because one was done by nature and the other created by us meaningless humans. Maybe it was the fact that, once, long ago when someone explained to her the concept of the universe, it was constantly hammered in the fact it was vast and limitless. Maybe it was the amount of time space was shown on movies or marketing, being something in the border between reached and conquered. Maybe it was the fact that she never really had much contact with expensive, professionally done things. Maybe it was the fact that its magnitude was much more palpable than the universe's.

All she knew was, when she stopped silently mocking her body-guards for having their heads buried in their tools because the IV announced an ETA of 5 minutes to their destination, and turned towards the window to observe said destination, her mouth fell open. They were so close to it, or maybe it was so big and long, that she couldn't see its sides. It seemed they were coming up from below it and she expected a shadow to fall over them that never came. And she frowned in frustration when the window began turning opposite from the structure because the ship's airlock was on the other side. A hand on her shoulder took her out of her trance, and she looked up to find Varric Haymitch smiling at her fondly.

"Are you done glaring at the stars, kid?" He asked.

She retorted by playfully glaring at _him_. He only chuckled. She looked back to see the other guys standing in their usual square formation, missing her at the center and Haymitch on the left back. She looked back at the old man, considered admitting that she'd miss him, but she just smiled instead.

Entering the station, they encountered immediately a man with stern disposition and an assault rifle. "Is she it?" He asked without preamble.

"This is the one from the incident." Confirmed Tom. The incident? Prinle raised an eyebrow.

Stern-y nodded. "Then you are dismissed." And just like that, the four men turned and left without a word. She was momentarily caught off-guard at how sudden that was, and supposed she would have to consider that little interaction with the old-man as her goodbye. Stern-y motioned for her to follow, and took her to a great room with multiple desks, all of which were empty. Still, he stopped beside one. She sat down as there seemed there was nothing else she was meant to do. A door opened from the right far side of the room, and a coat man with way too much data-pads in hand sat down across from her. He fumbled with them for a bit, before finding the one he was looking for, and settling.

"Confirm please." He said in a nosy voice as he scrolled down a page. "Name: Prinly Shepard."

She sucked in an annoyed breath, she had forgotten how people confused her name. Time in the gang had spoiled her in that, at least. "My name is pronounced as if it was Prinl-'a'."

"So, what, Prinlay? Prinla?"

"No- Prin-leh."

"Your mother is registered as a red sand addict and you were reported disappeared by a neighbor seven years ago. Did you escape?"

"Yeah, sorta."

"Because of your mother's addiction?"

"What do you think?"

Dorky looked up from his data-pad. "I think so, but I can't just- not without-"

"Yes."

"You were rescued by an orphanage two-month after in a dehydrated and impaired state. Correct?"

"I was _taken_ by an orphanage." She corrected, knowing full well she was fine at the time, if a little hungry. It was not like she hadn't passed hunger before going to the streets.

"And you abandoned it two years later?"

"I rescued myself." She smiled sweetly, the man furrowed his brow but said nothing.

"And several weeks back from this date you are captured after performing an attempt at robbery from an unidentified gang at the moment. Would it be correct to assume you- uhm- joined up shortly after you- uh, rescued yourself or escaped?"

"It's never correct to assume, mister."

He blinked. "But the hypothesis is correct?"

"Sure."

"Who taught you how to use your biotics."

"Self-trained." But healed, always healed. She really couldn't hate Kein remembering things like that.

"That is impossible miss."

"It is the truth, do whatever the fuck you want with it." The man seemed taken aback by her cursing, he ducked behind his data-pad as he pressed something in it as though he was defending himself. Almost funny, really.

"AndI understand you are unwilling to cooperate with the police in this matter? Offering information?" His tone made her understand it had nothing to do with the last question.

"How do you know?"

"Just confirming, miss." He mumbled nervously, Prinle distantly remembered Perfect-thrid-jerk-soldier asking her a few questions she refused to answer. The man's typing stopped before he continued. "Age 16?"

"Yes."

"Birthday is-"

"Four months from now, I believe."

The man checked, nodded and stood up. "That is all. Umm, good day." He began picking up his data-pads, and he hadn't finished when Stern-y began moving again and she was forced to follow.

As soon as she passed the first door after that, she realized this place as not made for comfort. The thin, too bright, and straight highway they came into with too much doors was not welcoming. They walked at a steady pace by various doors, all locked, all a bit taller than most she was used to were, before reaching the very last one at the end of the hallway. He waved his omni-tool and stepped aside for her to step in. It was the first time in her life she ever saw a turian, and she suddenly understood why the doors were bigger.

 **Author's Note: WE ARE FINALLY HERE! Brain Camp! Please tell me if you find any inconsistencies.**


	6. Chapter 6

**CHAPTER #6**

 **Author's Note: I wrote this listening to the Mass Effect Trilogy OST.**

Tall, dark, hard-looking, difficult to hurt with a knife, strong fists that must hit strongly. Those were my first thoughts, coming in slow succession one after the other with what I can only describe as a surging excitement bordering on fear. I was not scared, but I wouldn't compare myself to a jumping kid either. My awe was shadowed by apprehension. I had trapped myself here willingly, but in part because, as freak as I may seem to them, any Alliance soldiers, I was still human, they would still see me as a relatable face, a girl. They would still recognize my value if that didn't happen, hold the Alliance's best interests at heart. But to Aliens, I am bizarre, strange. To turians, a despicable reminder of death. As a _human biotic,_ a greater menace. **_What were they thinking?_** How was involving the Turians into _any_ project anything other than a terrible idea? Weren't the military the weariest on these things? I heard the door close behind me, a quick glance behind showed me the restricting red. Trying to pass as taking in the room, I checked the roof, the walls. Three cameras and a black glass panel greeted me. I was being observed. I was trapped. Great, Prinle, just great, you genius, you've succeeded, you are finally in deeper, fatter, worse than ever in your life, trouble. You could have gotten away so easily before, but, oh, food, right? Training? Stability? You stupid. You idiot.

I looked at the floor, my hair hiding my face like a curtain, just like I knew it would. Taking the opportunity, I took a second to glare at the floor. Then, I mildly realized the floor was so polished, I could almost see my reflection on it. And clearance struck. That girl there did not look angry, she was not defined enough to _be_ angry. She was a normal girl, a scared sad looking one, not unstable, not an extreme, one that would be glanced over, that would let them get their guard down. And that girl, was me. I could be that girl, I needed to be that girl if getting out was ever going to be an option. That was the girl they would take a while to realize was gone. This time, long-time reputation was not getting in my way, and I would be damned if my preservation instinct couldn't override my ego.

I raised my head then, slowly, interlaced my fingers together to wiggle one around the other in what must be perceived as a clear tick, one a turian even, should recognize easily. But _gang_ , _criminal_ , _outlaw_ , _dangerous_ , god only knew what words had been shared about me. I needn't look defenseless, just harmless, non-threatening. That was how I allowed myself to stand straight still, and to look at him, her, it, whatever, directly in the eyes in hesitant expectation.

"Hello," it said, in a voice I could now determine as a she, much gentle than I would have expected. "Here, sit down here with your back to me." She patted a high chair.

I silently obeyed, not without glancing at the circular platform under it that seemed to be for more than design. Once seated, I found myself face to face with the black panel. I fought the need of daring them to underestimate me with my eyes, and dumbly looked the panel over from right to left with an expression of obvious but guarded curiosity. Then I stopped, and waited stoically as felt the turian's talons on my neck, separating my hair at the back in order to expose it. I heard the dual gasp only a moment later. She let my hair fall as I heard some rustling behind me, then it stopped, and I heard the direct report. "Nothing, absolutely nothing. This biotic had not even been prepared for an amp."

Oh yeah that. I suppose that's the norm then. I had always supposed they were only minimally enhancing.

Suddenly, I felt the chair shaking, making me jump. I realized that it was turning, but I kept looking forward as it did, be obedient, Prinle, it's the safest. The Turian exposed her neck again, this time not for her own benefit but for whoever was watching. They were not even trying to hide it. She continued. "In normal cases, I would consider what she has been reported to be able to do as impossible." Impossible? "L2 Implants are difficult to predict, on her I have truly no idea what would be the effect. Only that it would be highly unstable."

Then a voice came through a speaker, one I had no idea even existed. "Do you think she will be able to perform the exercises and complete the training without one?" The lack of duality told me it was human, and it relaxed me somewhat, but not enough. That one of them behind the glass was human didn't mean they all were, or even the most.

"Yes, she will have to re-adapt once she gets the implant but until then… it will have helped a lot."

 **Author's Note: Ok, this was getting too long, I was getting sleepy, blah blah, cut short. Will post the rest later. Will still be labeled as chapter 7 though.**


	7. Chapter 7

**CHAPTER #7**

 **Author's Note: This, I think, is the longest chapter. Consider it a comeback. For the break I took. This, I wanna say, is my interpretation of BAaTT based on what we heard on the game and heard from Kaidan. I haven't read the comics. So, sorry if some differences bum you out.**

After that, I was escorted towards my room, by two armed turians, the air seemingly colder the deeper we went into the maze. I kept quiet, following my plan of inconspicuousness, though something told me that, even if I tried to initiate conversation, it would go nowhere. One push inside and the doors were locked behind me. I suppose it is more effective than telling a teenager a bunch of curfew rules and then expect her to follow them. I tried to map the place as best I could with them stopping me from looking anywhere but forward, but I knew one way to the airlock, and that was enough for now.

Not dropping the act, I took a look around my surroundings. A single thin bed with drawers underneath, a data-pad on a table with one chair, and a door to what I assumed was the bathroom. The rest were metal walls, and a light switch. Full-blown military grade, there was no doubt about that. With that, I confirmed there were no cameras and dropped the uncertain little face, instead flopping down into the bed and taking a little tired breath, distractedly noting the softness of the bed. I almost made a small, private snarky comment to myself but I knew from experience sound devices were much smaller, and much easier to hide.

 _Coming over with food bags on my hands, having offered after the smell of alcohol became too much. Stopping short, my heart beat rose, and there I saw my friends being apprehended by the police, one on the floor bleeding, no-one seeming to care. In truth, I didn't know them long. But they had given me a bed since I escaped the orphanage, asked for nothing but to stay out of the way. I saw Sara screaming in rage as they forced her into the police car, Thomas pressed against the floor as he struggled uselessly. No. No. No. No-no-no-no-no-"Nnn-!" I felt a hand cover my mouth. Fight. Scratch the hands, the arms, stomp your feet to the floor, don't get dragged. Don't get dragged. "Shut up girl, it's for ya' own good!" said the voice, once around the corner hiding me in the shadows. "I will let go, don't scream, don't run." I gasped, deep pants, wide eyes, turning to see a man twice my size. "You can do nough for your palls, girl." Said the man, hands on hips. "Too small a thing, too weak. Were I a sick mother-fucker, this woul' be a different, easy endeavor."_

 _I shook my head in outrage. "But they- I can't just-"_

 _"Thinking like that, you won't last long. Come, girl, and don't be stupid." He said, hand on my shoulder, dragged me again, this time back around the corner, hand tightening when they came into view. "I live around, and by my accounts, there live five people in that apartment of yours. One is half dead, one is you, two now under custody. Pray tell, who's the one missing?" I squinted up at him, unsure what he wanted to say but answering nonetheless. "Thomases' brother, um- Joseph?" Came my reply. He was silent for a moment, before looking down at me, meeting my eyes. "You just say 'Thomas's brother' girl, now look." He gestured with his head. And there he was: Joseph came out of the building, patting an officer in the back. I frowned. "Confused girl?" I heard the man, his voice almost in the background. "He is working for them, exposed them with evidence, most likely." He explained. I saw the officer turn and hand him something, Joseph looked down at it, shifted it, and its shadow became recognizable as money. "But his brother…" I silently exclaimed. "You don't trust nobody, girl, heck, you shouldn't trust me." He said, and then murmured as an afterthought. "If you were slightly more important and if I was offered whatever I'd take you to the next police station." I saw Joseph take out something from under his shirt, presenting it towards the officer. "What's that?" I asked, as the man held it between his thumb and forefinger. "A listening devise." So tiny, I thought, smaller than the tip of his finger._

 _"Now come girl, lest he looks over here." He pulled me behind the corner again. I took the opportunity to pick up the food bag, having dropped them when the man stopped me from getting involved, clutching the plastic as the life-line I just knew they had become. I was alone again. Once in the shadows, he looked at me. I was weighting how long I could make the bags last. "Girl?"_

 _I looked up. "Yeah?"_

 _"How old are you?"_

 _"12 now." I answered._

 _He raised an eyebrow. "Twelve_ _ **now?"**_

 _"I mean…my birthday was yesterday." I explained, and he nodded, looked me up and down. "And your name?" I raised my head, then, knowing the usual reaction to my unusual forename. "Prinle." He smiled then, an amused expression coming on immediately. Then, he registered my eyes, daring him to comment, and whatever he was going to say was toned down to "that's a new one." I felt my shoulders sag a little, relieved. The guys- the guys that had just been taken- they had laughed at it. I had not truly cared, but they made so much fun of it, at random times, it seemed inappropriate not to address the house keepers every time, as annoying as it had become. "Well,_ _ **Prin**_ _cess, you don't look twelve, you look ten. Sure you've hit puberty yet?"_ And that, was how I met Kein. After that, he took care of me, said it was because it was convenient, and truth be told, I never doubted it for a second. I would do his chores, clean the house, but there was a bond there. He taught me a lot, much of which I ignored. But I knew we truly cared for each other the day my biotics surfaced, it seemed puberty was not the only thing that I hit late. Around the same time, I was looking more of a woman and less of a girl, and he used that to take my mind off things, flirting with me in what I knew was as harmless as my actual dad flirting with me. After all, mom's lost ramblings never hid how he was actually, truly, and forever a good guy. Maybe that was why I felt a need to be polite, back then.

But Kein always told me, maybe in a contradictory act, that as much as it may hurt him, his main rule and responsibility, would always be to himself. The day it did not benefit him to protect me, or simply have me around, the first thing I should do, is scratch him off the list of people I can count on.

And I guess the day of… "the incident" was as much proof of that as ever.

I breathed in, realizing memories and a bit of melancholy had taken over me. What was I, an old wrinkly man in remembrance of old loves and broken hearts? I was too young to be like this. Back in the present and curious, I decided to see what exactly I was allowed to do. I reached for the data-pad, thankful that the desk was right beside the bed and I needn't stand up, and tapped on it. The first thing that appeared was a message in bold letters:

 **THE STATION TIME IS EQUIVALENT TO 11:20pm ON EARTH. SLEEP IS RECOMMENDED.**

I tapped on the screen again expecting the message to go away. It didn't. "Seriously?" escaped from my lips, unhelpful, unnecessary, disobedient. But in all honesty, this was one thing I expected never to encounter with my lack of family quality, strict bedtime. I threw the data-pad back towards the table without thinking, it clanked, slid across the surface to the very edge, but it didn't fall off. I rolled on the bed so I was across it, my head hanging off the side, and opened the drawers.

The first one had identical shirts with the same pattern, the first row were turtle necks with long sleeves, the second short sleeves and the third long sleeves without turtle necks.

The drawer next to that one had thick pants, long shorts, and knee high skirts.

The drawer under it made me wonder if anyone blushed, sports underwear and normal underwear laid out in order of size.

The other under drawer had sport white shoes, and formal black shoes. With the exception of this one, all the others were filled with the exact same color scheme: dark blue, white blue, gray blue, some back.

Yup, there was no escaping the monster that was Alliance military influence.

With nothing left to do, except explore the bathroom, I rolled up in the thin sheets, and as always, my mind decided it wanted to bother me until I found the perfect conditions of sleep. I ended up with the turtle neck, curled into a corner of the bed, and my face completely exposed.

….Thruuuuu….…..Thruuuuu….…..….Thruuuuu…

I felt the call of awareness calling me, and I turned my face towards the mattress, preferring the heat despite the obstruction of air. Reality waited civilly outside my ear for a few seconds, permitting me my privacy, before jumping in, impatient. I just like that, I passed from enjoying the blissfulness of one who sleeps, to shooting up into a sitting position. It took me a moment, but eventually I focused on the thing that vibrated with such diligence. It was lucky; the tremors had taken it to the center of the table, as opposed to helping it fall off. Leaning over, I tapped the black screen of the data-pad that was not winning over my affections. And again, I was greeted by a message, almost like a memo at this point.

 **YOU HAVE 00:26:19 MINUTES BEFORE TRAINING BEGINS.**

I watched the seconds count down to fourteen, slowly coming to terms to the fact that I had submitted myself to routine. Then, I jumped out of bed, without giving myself a moment to lazy back under the sheets. The shower had pretty straight forward controls, and I relished the moment when I picked up the shampoo knowing no one would be angry 'cause I took a tad much. And then, I opened the curtain, reaching for the towel for I had the bad habit of forgetting to leave it hanging close by when a painfully different spot came into view from my reflection. There, on the left side of the abdomen, was a strangely shaped ball. Suddenly not caring about dirt on my feet after having just bathed, I towards the counter and sat on it with my legs to the side to examine the circle. It was my biggest scar, a record, and it was somewhere rather appropriate for a scar. In this kind of situation, I would be cheering, but this was not a long, thin, elegant scar. This was a ball, no… a… disk? Broken disk it would be, so not that… a planet. The round outline was eerily close to perfect, and within, it was a whole landscape of its own. There is the mountain, there is the river, there is the valley, and there is the Everest. Knowing from treatment that my memory did not deceive me, and the thing had actually gone through, I turned around. I was way past wondering what kind of miracle workers were the doctors. In my back, I found half the circle, with much less terrain inside. So, the cursed thing hadn't broken, in just fell off from its place intact in order to impale me with maximum damage, so charming. I narrowed my eyes at it, suddenly feeling like I had to compare it to something now that I had done so with its brother. Come to think of it, it did look like a half "moon!" A smile broke through my face. Moon and Half Moon, now they had names. With new found fondness, I stepped down, began drying myself and putting on underwear while admiring the new marks of my body. And then "thruuuuu…. Thruuuuu…" the data-pad called. Running into my room, now with slippers, I tapped the screen.

 **FIVE MINUTE WARNING.**

Oh, how _kind_ of them, I chuckled. And confident I could work with that, I threw on the warmest shirt from the collection. That is turtle-neck and long sleeve. Then I hesitated. Then used the method of elimination.

Skirts, never.

Shorts, kind of ridiculous with what I had chosen.

Pants it was. Sport shoes, I'm set.

As I came out, to find, of course, two turian guards, different from the ones from yesterday, I looked at them to figure out the direction. And they began walking. Yeah, ok, so, school was a very limited experience for me, but I knew I didn't want to be there late. So no. I jogged, and they were forced to do so too to keep up with me and directions. Finally, they stopped at either side of a door, and I came through. The first thing I recognized was a Turian with his back to me, in better armor than the rest, standing stiff and with his talons clasped behind his back, somewhere in my mind the thought of some things carried across species came through. And then, I saw them. A whole bunch of kids, or well, teens, fellow teens, I often forgot I wasn't that old myself. All together on the other side of the classroom, at least ten of them with scared looks on their faces, and behind them, a big, thick door.

They had come in a group.

"Today we have a new trainee." Announced the turian.

It was impossible for every single one of them to have an escort, it was simply not practical.

The turian looked behind him. "Shepard."

They must have come from adjacent rooms, not isolated.

"Step forward." He ordered, and I did, until I was beside him, with a meter of separation.

It meant I was already picked apart. I did not know why, but I knew my plan was not going to work.

He turned towards me, I faced him too. "Listen, human…"

I couldn't rely on the organizers or teachers or anyone in charge to lower their guard around me.

"I am your trainer. I am Commander Vyrnnus, and that…"

If I couldn't get them on my side, it meant I needed my fellow students on mine.

"…is how you will refer to me. You will not speak during training, and you will follow orders."

Which meant…

"If you wonder about me, simply put,"

…I was going to have _fun_.

"I was at the helm of the dreadnought that killed your father." He stated maliciously.

And I smirked. " _Really?_ I thought he died on a car crash, _Commander_ , but you have opened my eyes." I said, mockingly, joyfully, eyes wide in pretend surprise. Instantly, I heard the muffled chuckles, the intakes of air, and one, scared, little feminine gasp.

 **Author's Note: Uh Oh.**

 **Anyway, guys, what ya' think? I wanna know. I have to admit, I have truly enjoyed writing this chapter. Which is part of the reason it is so long. I have not checked it, so if you noted an inconsistency, please, PM me on it.**


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter #8**

I saw the slap coming, really. If I couldn't see a frontal slap coming I probably wouldn't be alive at the moment. Next thing I knew though, I was on the floor, replaying the distinct feeling of a talon tearing into the flesh of my cheek. Looking down into the metal pristine floor as it was marred with drops of my blood, recognizing that same feminine voice as it let out what could be nothing but sobs. To tell the truth, _that_ was a much shorter fuse than I expected, both from the ' _fatherkiller'_ , and whoever that girl was. I chanced a glance towards the onlookers, while filtering the Stupid Turian's complaints regarding my insolence and how my _heightened abilities_ won me no special liberties, and I quickly registered a blond girl hidden in a chest, no longer sobbing, not much more quite clear as she was covered by a protective cluster of students, most of them, of course, male. _My competition then._ I couldn't be much of anything if their attention was centered one small little frightened girl who didn't know how to use the attention. And it was, I dared say, a good fourth of the group. And that, was enough to stop any escape attempt. A quick scan through the rest told me there were groups, but not any more group leaders. "Stand up, Shepard." Commanded the turian from behind me, and so, I did, I stood straight up and with a head held high and a small amused smile I performed a lazy soldier's salute with a lazy "yesss, sirrr!", knowing full well everyone else expected me to give a scared submissive look. I was happy to show them that wasn't me. The turian grumbled I was worse, much worse than Alenko, low enough that I don't think he thought I'd hear. But I did hear, and I immediately knew, I was going to like Mr. Perfect Soldier's cousin.

"Bring it in!" Said the turian suddenly, hand on the side of the head here I would only assume his ear was. A door behind the students opened and two turians brought in a massive metal box, which they deposited between the turian and me, before departing through the door I came in through. I was beginning to wonder if, apart from my fellow contemporaries, all other contact would be from turians. "This human!" began the turian, turning towards the young group, I suddenly realized I had forgotten high almighty commander's name. "Is able to do all of which you have refused to learn like you were supposed to. Without training, without amp, without _implant!_ " So, I had achieved a control the others didn't? I did not miss the high eyebrows, the confused glances thrown in my direction, some unbelieving, some miffed, some jealous, some distrusting. And then, my eyes came to meet this intense hazel ones, frown over them in question, some bewilderment. It was the strongest of glares, yet lacking fury. I completely missed then the alien as he put some distance between me and him, coming to stand on the side of the room. I did immediately turn my head when I heard a weird mechanical sound, a click and what as well have been a twisting rail, but before I had even finished registering that which looked like a mini gun protruding from on top of the box I felt a sting in my neck. I felt up with my hand, and plucked out a dart. I looked at it with its little empty transparent cabin with a bit of a residual red liquid. "And now, here you'll have a presentation." A dual voice said. I frowned up towards the turian, and my mouth opened up in surprise as I saw a bunch of them, people and the so called teacher, clustered, transparent, on over the other, waving around, a cloud over my mind that for a moment that prevented me from rationalizing what I saw, getting darker, darker. And then, a white mist fell all around, and over me there was a blue sky with a searing sun that hurt my eyes, and my irritated my white skin. I looked down, and immediately blinked to take the sand outta my eyes, held my breath as I waited for the breeze to stop, lest I breathe the particles in. I narrowed my eyes as I saw a plateau in the distance, some green spots here and there with it. I looked around me and the only other structure that greeted me was a triangular rock a small ways off my side. How had I gotten here? For the life of me, what have I done? "Nice one." I murmured to myself. "Now you found a way to strand yourself in the middle of the desert." Thinking about my plan of action, I realized I needed shadow, water, food, so plants, with insects (I had eaten worse). That plateau may help, but instead of walking directly towards I moved and sat beside the triangular rock on its shadowy side. I needed some time to cool off. The moment the rock stopped protecting me, I would start the long way. I pressed my legs covered in thin brown pants against my chest covered with a thin brown sleeveless shirt, and hugged them. I was closing my eyes to protect them from the bright reflection of light when, in the distance, I saw a mechanical turret flying towards me, steering sand up as in flew close to the floor. Instantly I stood up and round the rock in order to take cover, only to find an identical turret much, much closer than its partner. "Shit!" I jumped back right as it went off, the bullets hitting the rock with force, thankfully it didn't break apart, rising so much more sand that I completely gave up on not breathing it in. I prepared to raise a shield, happy that they weapons were apparently stupid enough not to fly around my fan-freaking-tastic cover. When the other turret was close enough, it stopped; I saw its old revolver look-alike thingy rotate and it was then, that with all my biotic force, I changed tactics, forcing the barrel to the ground and pushing it forward as it began shooting. Taking the risk of the other turret being fast enough to point at me while I was on its line of sight, I took a bit of a biotic leap, landing in that exact spot between the gun part of the turret and the flying VI or remote control part of it, and, concentrating biotic force at my feet, I broke it apart. I landed behind the fallen weaponry, checking quickly to see if the rock still covered me from the other turret, which it did, and looked at the hovering platform as it swayed headlong and back as it lost its balance from the shock of the kick and loss of equipment, making a little sound like the waves in a shore from its thrusters. Concentrating on that little wavering, I realized the other turret had tried to shoot me, but now that I was lost to it again, it had stopped, and it was taking de-heating time, that same revolver like thingy probably rotating backwards, or at least, rotating slower. Idea blossoming in my mind, I pushed the fallen turret part closer to the rock with me, and sitting against it with the gun between my legs, I looked for the auctioning piece, careful to fold back the hanging, broken cables that may zap me. Recognizing it, taking it into hold, and then my other hand took hold of the top of the gun. As soon as I couldn't hear the rotating, I bolted from behind the rock and began shooting, using my biotics to prevent it from flying from my hands. A little smirk graced my lips as I saw the other turret slumping down in smoke. I let the gun fall from my hands, which also dropped to my sides as I threw head back, felt it as it throbbed, recognizing the taste of my own blood on my lips as I run my tongue against it. And then, a sting in my neck. For a few seconds there, I felt paralyzed, not an effect from the attack, but from fear. Hesitantly I brought my hand up, and felt a dart. A dart? I opened my eyes, and behind the blue sky I saw a metal roof. A metal roof. Slowly, I remembered having felt a dart before. I looked at the triangular rock and inside it, I saw clearly the box with the strange pistol that had deceived me. Not, not the pistol. I felt my fingers break the dart as I turned towards the audience, and I marched outside of the hologram as it slowly dissipated, a white light wiping it off from my reality, and there, feeling violated and mocked, I demanded. "What did you do to me?"

The turian ignored me, and walked towards the small door. "Lunch break. When I come back, I expect you to not disappoint me." He announced with his back to us, and then, he was gone. I could hear the rest shuffling out behind me, the murmurs, the whispers, and all the while I had my eyes closed, pleading to myself, not to do anything stupid. Nothing of what I wanted to do at the moment.

"Your nose is bleeding." Said a male voice behind me.

Immediately, I unclenched my hands, the broken dart fell to the floor and that same hand same up to wipe under my nose. I half turned, and my eyes met a tall, thin but not too much, handsome guy, with slightly yellowish hair that obviously didn't quite get how good he got it, his slightly hunched shoulders and hand on pockets screaming insecurity. Of course, his tenor voice, one that I'd almost classify as countertenor, couldn't be the most popular. But I had to hand it to him, that look. Eyes darker than I had ever seen, darker than the night, than shadows, than the muck that gathered around the given up homeless man, an unfathomable dark that I would only compare with what I imagined a black hole to be. Dark eyes that looked at me, worried, not because of whatever I may think of him, but because, as he eloquently put it, I was bleeding. Still, I had a hard time rating them as better than the hazel ones.

"I know." I answered. Cute guys didn't change the fact that I just wasn't in the mood to be… agreeable.

He didn't seem offended at my apparent lack of tact and interest. "I could take you to the nurse-"

"It'll heal on its own." I said flippantly, I was used to it, and in truth, I did not want to see another turian doctor. I shot him a glance, and upon seeing his raised eyebrows, I suddenly felt that shame that I had been muting for so long, I was surprised at its re-appearance. "But thank you." I conceded softly.

He shook his head, suggesting that wasn't the problem, and then asked. "So, this happens to you often? And you just _don't_ treat it?"

"Yeah, it's not so bad." I replied distractedly, wiping under my nose again. Frowning down at the red fingers, I added. "Damn annoying, though. So, a bathroom?"

"Of course," He nodded, and gestured with his head to follow him, soon enough, we were walking side by side, turning to the right after crossing the large door.

"What's to the left?" I asked, looking back.

"Forbidden territory." He said solemnly. He looked at me, and he did not take a second stare at my curious eyes before he touched my shoulder. "But, don't think about that!" He said, a bit too enthusiastically. "There are other… things to- wonder about… around here, like… what's your name?"

I opened my mouth, and just like that, the fact that I had a plan hit me in the face. I couldn't tell him my name, if the gang made fun of it; I had no doubt these teenagers would too. And while I was sure this guy wouldn't mock nor tell if I told him to keep it a secret he would believe me insecure and loose respect. The same result all around. "I simply go by Shepard."

"Oh, um, well, Dylan." He said, and extended one of his hands.

I refused to smile at that, I would not smile at him for being educated. I shook hands with him, and then "And, well, Dylan, how come I am only talking to you? The others forgot their manners?"

"Oh, well…" He frowned. "They…" he took a breath. "Vyrnnus dislikes you much more than any of us have seen. Not even, Alenko- so, if he treads you badly, then he will probably not- tread those around you very well either."

Not a good start. But not everyone had escaped. "And you?"

"I don't think it's true. I mean, Rahna is fine and she is always around Alenko. And, you needed someone to tell you around." He said, his hands deepening into his pockets. Now, he was nervous, his pace quickening.

"Hey" I called. He slowed down a bit, and I put a hand on his shoulder. "Thank you."

He looked at me, and straightened up. "You're welcome."

Finally reaching the bathroom door, I put my hand on it and took a look at the lunchroom which was barely seven feet away. "Dylan?"

"Yeah?"

"You sit alone?"

"…I …yeah."

I nodded. "You won't anymore. From now on, you will sit in a full table." I resolved. He gave me a confused look. "Wait here." I said, and with that, entered to clean myself up.

 **Author's Note: So, what is this, love triangle? I do not plan on it, but if it evolves that way, it evolves that way. Dylan is only one of the many made up characters that will come up because I felt like making them up, but they are not purposeless, let me tell you.**


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